


Double Refraction

by lilyflame



Category: 1×1/2-イチトニブンノイチ- | 1x1/2 - My Half of You
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Gen, Holidays, Human Resources, One Shot, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Pre-Canon, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyflame/pseuds/lilyflame
Summary: I just don't want to lose you. That's all.
Relationships: Morii Akira / Morii Ayako
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Double Refraction

> いつも好き この街の通り  
>  高く低く回わる terminal  
>  まるで流星 燃え上がる炎  
>  恋と流れ 夜空 翔けるよ  
>  とぎれぬ 心を  
>  素直に 届けてみよう

「恋は流星」 // 吉田美奈子

* * *

It was the second time today the phone had rung after work hours.

She had permitted it shortly after first moving here, unsure of the British work culture or how exactly to go about pushing back, but with the promotion Akira had felt more confident in ramping up her objections. There had been some pleading, but she refused to give in, and eventually persistence had won out. Yet there it was: her phone, almost exclusively used for work these days, ringing from the nightstand beside the hotel bed.

The last time she had ignored it, but this time she was frustrated enough to look. 5:53 PM, and a glimpse of the number—nothing she recognized, but local—before the screen turned black. Confused, she clicked the power button.

Out of battery. Even fate seemed to have concurred with her decision.

Laughing quietly to herself, Akira tossed the phone back on the nightstand and rolled back onto the bed.

It was comfortable here. There was nothing wrong with the room itself: spacious, large glass windows overlooking the city, a large oak desk, matching table and chairs, a bathroom clad in marble. Her company-supplied apartment here had set a high bar, but they certainly could have done worse until the move.

It probably would have felt luxurious to her ten years ago, or at least novel, but these places didn't impress her anymore. With a do-not-disturb sign on the door and moving boxes splayed out on the floor, she had found she liked it marginally better, but it still felt like purgatory when measured against the prospect of finally going home.

She would find something to occupy herself with until then, but right now all she wanted was a nap. Akira clicked the bedside lamp off.

Just one more week.

The next thing Akira heard was a ring from the other side of the bed, this time a grating and high-pitched warble like an office phone, and for a moment in that liminal space between dreaming and wakefulness she wondered deliriously if they had snuck one in. Rubbing her eyes, Akira rolled over to find a light flashing on the hotel phone, and using it as a rough guide fumbled for the receiver.

"This is Morii."

A man's voice. "Front desk. There's someone here trying to get in touch with you. Should I tell them you're unavail—"

"No. I'll speak to them."

"Of course." A brief shuffling, and then—nothing. "Hello?" Akira tried, more alert now.

A woman's this time. "Ms. Morii? This is Catherine. May I come up?"

"Sure." Akira chuckled. "Could we get to know each other a little better first?"

A long pause. "Oh, I was told you'd have…" Akira heard some background chatter she couldn't make out—she guessed it was to the hotel staff. "I'm sorry, you probably have no idea who I am. The branch office sent—"

"Well, you can tell them I promise I'll come say goodbye at the Christmas party."

Another pause. "I don't know if you understand. I need to speak with you in a personal capacity."

"Today?" At least it wasn't an emergency. Akira got out of bed slowly. "I'll meet you in the lobby in about five minutes."

Silence. "I'm not sure the lobby would…"

Akira looked over the hotel room, then down at her pajamas. "Fifteen minutes, then. I guess you know the room number."

Lifting her wrinkled button-down from the chair back she had thrown it on, Akira sighed.

* * *

"I'd submitted a request for transfer to the Boston office, but I didn't want to elaborate on the reason in the letter. I was told I could contact you to explain."

The woman sitting across Akira at the diminutive table said it all just a little too quickly, as if practiced. Dressed modestly—a grey sweaterdress and tights, simple earrings flanking put-up hair, a pea coat now hanging on the entryway hooks—Akira guessed she had come here straight from work. A few stray strands of light brown hair fell across her angular face, and she batted them away nervously as she spoke.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was concerned."

"About what?"

"Retaliation."

Akira leaned forward. "Then, off the record, can I give you some advice?"

"Yes?"

"If it's that serious, you should see legal counsel before speaking to me."

"It's not like that. I enjoy the work. I don't want that to change."

"As far as the transfer, I can make some notes internally, but not much else." Akira sat back, giving a weak gesturing kick off toward the boxes littering the floor. "I'll be at the Tokyo office as of next week. And I don't sign off on them anymore. Not directly."

"Anymore?" The woman looked confused.

"I've been promoted since then."

"I… hadn't realized. Your name rang a bell from the hiring committee."

"We had a retirement." Akira smiled. "I'm surprised you remembered me."

"You, Dr. Vermeulen, I believe Dr. Zhang was—"

"Vermeulen?" Some gears started turning in Akira's head. "Wait, are you in research?"

Her expression brightened in acknowledgment. "Yes, I'm a coordinator. On biologics."

The secrecy, the referral, the naivete. She even dressed the part. Everything made a little more sense now—Akira couldn't believe she had missed it.

"This is about Bisset, right? Arthur Bisset?"

The woman winced. "That's him."

"I should have asked that first." Akira scrambled for a pen. "I know the timing's terrible, but if you don't have plans tomorrow, can you meet me at the office?"

"I'll be on a plane to Boston tomorrow, unfortunately. Seeing family in the States for a few days."

Akira spun the pen for a moment, lost in thought, before clicking it open against the table. "Even better." The hotel stationary was nowhere to be found, the only paper within reach Akira's somewhat alarming impromptu collection of Chinese takeout menus stacked by the television. That would do, she thought, picking one off the pile and scribbling out the address of a meeting room rental service on the reverse. "Let's find a more suitable place to discuss this."

"Did you say _better_?"

"If this is about what I think it is, I'll be joining you." Akira clicked the pen closed and slid the hastily annotated menu across the table.

The other woman picked it up hesitantly. "For… Christmas?"

"If you'd like." Akira laughed. "What I meant was, if you can make time between then and New Year's, I'll try to set something up with executive HR there."

"You'd do something like that?"

"No promises. But half of my job these days is going over there for meetings we could be having on one of these." One arm of her jacket still dangling off her shoulder, Akira reached for her tablet and held it up with a look of resignation. She always wondered what it'd take to usher in the days of teleconferencing. "I'm used to it, and they're used to me. I'd be happy if it accomplished something for once."

"I'll be back in the area by the 27th."

"Great." As they rose from their seats, Akira caught her disheveled reflection in the mirror mounted on the television cabinet and frowned. "By the way, who told you to come to me?"

"Will she get in trouble?"

"Probably not, but you've just eliminated half the suspects." Akira pulled the other sleeve on. "Like I said, no promises. That's exactly why I recommended you seek legal advice. I'm obligated to report what—"

"If that's so, why…" The other woman turned in the entryway, fully meeting Akira's gaze for what seemed like the first time in the conversation. "…did you ask?" Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she spoke.

Akira paused, the hand which she'd been fussily adjusting her jacket with now hanging stationary at her collar. "I guess I was curious?"

"Then you'll have to forgive my dropping in," Catherine said, lifting her coat off the hook. "It seems we're in the same boat."

* * *

Akira had been scouring the room for her car keys for several minutes when her jacket pocket buzzed. A familiar name appeared on the screen: the suspect herself.

"This is Morii—"

"It's me. What's with that tone?"

"Practice! Trying to get back in the 'cold manager' habit."

A skeptical laugh. "Good luck. I knew you'd been feeling down, but are you not taking my calls anymore?"

"It wasn't your number!" Akira protested. A glint of metal caught her eye; she snatched the keys from their hiding place behind the exorbitantly wide television. "I thought it was work, Tammy."

"Office phone! I sent someone your way."

"She just left. How many strange women are you planning on sending to my hotel room?"

"As many as it takes to keep you here. No, I'd have handled it personally if I hadn't thought she might help with our problem."

Akira leaned against the entryway wall. "Isn't it your problem now?"

"Yes, and don't pretend you're happy with that. I know you better." Tammy's voice picked up. "Anyway, she's in research, couldn't you tell?"

"It took me a while," Akira admitted, twirling the keyring on her finger, her other hand clutching the phone in a near-vicegrip. "I'm surprised she's so stubborn about staying with us."

"You're normally so observant in these situations. Are things with Ayako really—"

"Just leave it to me." Akira snapped the keys into her palm, sweeping them into her pocket. "If anybody asks, it's a personnel issue."

"Dodging Christmas parties is, I suppose."

Akira groaned. "I'm doing you a favor, you know."

"One last time, _Ms. Morii._ "

"See you around, _Mrs. Evans_."

"You're too cruel. Merry Christmas, Akira." The phone went dead.

* * *

Akira Morii had not anticipated spending the early hours of Christmas morning in an airport food court, head over arms crossed on the table, temporarily transfixed by an unlit stall sign peeking above the handle of her suitcase.

But for a while, it seemed like she wouldn't make it here at all.

The meeting had confirmed most of her suspicions, and she had booked a ticket for the next afternoon. When Akira arrived at the gate for her flight, she had spotted Catherine still waiting for the previous one. A snowstorm had apparently slammed into the East Coast, and the surrounding seats were packed with grumbling last-minute fliers who were watching their holiday plans evaporate.

Akira had waved and sat down on a bench seat a few aisles down, thinking it best to keep to herself. She hadn't paid much attention to the occasional would-be passenger storming out of the gate, but when she overheard Catherine on a call full of sighs and apologies, it dawned on her that she might now be the sole beacon of hope on this doomed expedition. From then on, Akira tried her best to, if awkwardly, keep the other woman in good cheer.

Catherine didn't seem particularly disheartened, though, and eventually Akira herself felt like the more frustrated party. The second time the next plane failed to appear, she had charged to the desk and put them both on the last flight to New York, itself delayed but looking more likely to depart, followed by a short hop to Boston. By now, that last part struck her as hopelessly optimistic, but at worst they might get _somewhere_.

So they said a temporary goodbye, Akira waving again as she boarded with the priority passengers, Catherine returning the gesture from a bench seat, holding a ticket emblazoned with the dismaying Group 5. Used to traveling alone, Akira felt a bit self-conscious, but nothing today could prevent her from enjoying a private moment of relief when the wheels finally made it off the ground.

Meeting again at the arrival gate, having departed the plane slightly more equitably than they had boarded it, the two had relocated to the food court to plan their next steps. But Akira had slept through meal service, and to her, starving, all those dead signs over the shuttered stalls felt like taunts.

"WOK & ROLL", this one said. It was cruel, she thought, in an airport.

The business lounge was closed, and so Catherine had offered to make a survey of the terminal. Results were dismal, as they had both expected; now she had returned, setting a coffee carrier and two brown waxpaper bags on the table. The one in front of Akira crinkled as she peeked inside—a plain glazed donut.

"Maybe better luck at departures?" Catherine offered.

Akira took her cup. She suspected it was wishful thinking, but this would do for now.

* * *

"Did you not have Christmas plans?"

"Just New Year's. Until then, sending off boxes. They've had me in that hotel since my apartment lease ran out." Akira picked up her coffee and paused. "You have somewhere to stay, right?"

"Yes, my sister's place. She said her truck was there when I called yesterday. And some eggs in the fridge…?" Catherine laughed. "I'll be fine."

It reminded Akira that she had almost let something else slip her mind. She'd take care of it soon. "Still, I'm sorry things didn't work out."

"It's hardly your fault." Catherine leaned back in her chair. "Actually, I'm a little relieved."

"Huh?"

"My parents. The 'immoral lifestyle' type. Still crazy for my sister's ex-husband, though." Another garbled announcement blared over the PA. Catherine swirled her cup as she waited for it to finish, then continued. "To be frank, I was mostly looking forward to telling her if I'd be staying with her next year."

 _So that was her angle._ "The transfer…?"

"Don't get me wrong, I dreaded that man." Catherine sipped her coffee. "But as long as it's honest, I love the work. It seemed like the natural thing to do."

"I'm sure everyone in R&D is getting offers from China, the US…"

"Have you done it? The whole job-hopping thing, I mean."

"Never." Akira rested her chin on her left hand, long hair flowing around her arm as the other cupped her coffee. "Different corporate culture, I guess? We're always fending off poachers."

"I've been in Gothenburg, Paris, a stint in Switzerland…" Catherine shook her head. "Those days are behind me. I've found it's a game for the young."

 _Didn't you say you were a little younger than I was?_ Akira popped the last bite of the donut in her mouth, trying not to let her reaction show. Too sweet. "So you're saying eventually you have to walk away."

A smile in acknowledgment. "Exactly. You said you're on your way back to Japan, right?"

"Yeah. My parents are there. And Ayako—"

"Someone special?"

"I guess you could say that?" Akira laughed, recalling all those times she'd call Ayako "Mom" and send Asuka into tantrums. "I wasn't expecting the change in responsibilities here. I'd feel more comfortable at home."

"Shorter business trips, I'd imagine." Catherine's chair squeaked as she got up. "If you'll excuse me for a second…?"

As the other woman walked off towards the bathroom, Akira's mind drifted to Bisset.

About six months ago, corresponding with his transfer to the branch office, there had been an alarming uptick in staff turnover. Akira had investigated, and dug up several grievances from the marketing team in Philadelphia, claiming he'd been pressuring them into "creative sales tactics" pushing some new single-enantiomer antidepressant flop or another. She didn't remember the exact details, but the important part was that the data wasn't there, and in lieu of working around that he had simply ordered them to make it up.

There were internal scandals and there were "potential regulatory action" scandals—she had dealt with both, and even in the US, this was verging on the latter. Somehow he had skated through, probably failing upwards through some executive buck-passing, into R&D. _Her_ R&D.

Tammy had thrown endless spreadsheets and statistics at her to prove the staff bleed wasn't a fluke, but Akira had gathered from the previous incident that something more solid would be necessary to make anything stick. But with the promotion, neither of them were doing exit interviews anymore, and they were both helpless as they watched staff they'd worked hard to bring in give notice and vanish. Her superior had warned her explicitly to keep out of it, but she had felt ashamed watching these people get pushed out. Complicit.

Now she had proof. That bastard. She was going to nail him to the wall on the way out.

"…is everything okay?"

Akira looked up to find a perplexed Catherine. A few seconds passed before she realized what was in her right hand—a half-crushed paper cup.

"The coffee." Akira tried her best to give a convincing smile. "Really bad."

The other woman's bewilderment turned to relief.

"It was, wasn't it?"

* * *

The man at the security kiosk greeted Akira as she rolled her suitcase over.

_Passport. Boarding pass._

It would be no problem. As long as she called as soon as she settled in at the gate, she would catch Ayako before she went to bed, and still on Christmas. _"I'll be your gift this year!"_ , something like that. Kissing noises into the phone. She'd hate it.

It had been a long time, but what were two years, really, in all the time they'd known each other?

"You're all set." The agent stamped her boarding pass. "Have a good one."

"You too."

Dealing with people was her job, the telephone her weapon. She had heard everything climbing the HR ladder. The simple things, like staff calling in Mondays sick with a voice indicating either they'd been partying last night or that they hadn't stopped. The more interesting ones: extramarital affairs; sudden conflicts of interest as someone got married to a colleague, a supervisor, a client; the occasional combination of the two.

And it wasn't just anyone—it was Ayako. Practically her little sister. If anyone would understand, it'd be her.

_Handle in. Suitcase on the belt._

So why was it so difficult?

Akira tossed her phone into a plastic tray and placed it on the rollers behind her suitcase. This wasn't worth thinking about now.

Just a minute or so later she was through, waiting on the bench, staring out into the more crowded general security line. Even on Christmas, even at this early hour, it was a mess—Akira wondered if they'd rerouted more flights here. What struck her most, though, was that she had never lingered here before. It had been ages since she had reason to even look backwards, or to expect to see anything other than a crowd of strangers. Soon enough, a few lines down from where she'd exited, her eyes found Catherine, apparently next in line for one of those body scanners, meeting her gaze across the security area.

And all Akira could think at that moment was how much simpler it would be, how wonderful if it were Ayako here instead with her, giving a weak smile, pulling another suitcase alongside her, never having to say goodbye again.

These weren't new thoughts to her. They were frequent even when she had been coming and going from the Hokkaido branch. After all these years, though, Akira was able to recognize them for the selfish fantasies they were.

With the promotion she could now moderate the excesses of her career, but even if Akira were to stay in Japan for good, even if Asuka left the nest, Ayako wouldn't put up with it. It wasn't in her nature—it was exactly that which had drawn Akira to it all in the first place.

Fantasies didn't need to be logical. But she knew better now than to impose them on others.

She would never let that happen again.

Ayako had fallen into happy domesticity so gracefully, as if she had waited for it all her life. Akira felt comparatively clumsy in it, like some unwanted daughter unexpectedly taking to the throne at the expense of the chosen son. She suspected Atsushi, despite his age, might have done better, and had resolved to do the best she could. As time passed, it almost began to feel as if familial obligation was just an excuse for their life together.

But that domestic life did not include flirtation, infatuation, romance, the languages Akira knew. At first she had thought Ayako was simply inexperienced with women, assumed it would all come to her, but it all seemed to be as hopelessly incomprehensible to Ayako as raising a child was to Akira. Ayako was clearly interested in _something_ from Akira, but the way she moved made exactly _what_ impossible to fully decipher.

Ayako, the woman whose departure would prompt Akira to find Atsushi sitting in silent contemplation, staring through his study desk. How she would, laughing, drag him out of the room, all those years ago.

Ayako, Kisaragi Ayako, who never smiled. Morii Ayako, radiant in motherhood.

Ayako, the woman who would let the wind blow her away.

She was _terrifying_.

The feeling startled Akira back to reality, and as her eyes sought the spot where the other woman had returned her gaze, she again saw nothing more than a sea of strangers.

* * *

It was bright as they arrived at the old house, the station wagon rumbling effortlessly over the snow, wipers sweeping away what still fell on the windshield. Renting it today had been exorbitant, but Akira didn't skimp, and times like these were why.

Akira clicked off the radio. "I'll call you once I have the details."

"Wonderful." Catherine opened the passenger door a crack, then hesitated, the seat belt light dinging. "It's been a long trip. Would you like to come in for a bit to warm up?" She laughed. "A proper breakfast?"

It was not a particularly good idea, Akira had thought, to accept that offer.

But it was practical, and it _had_ been a long trip. An hour or two seemed a perfectly reasonable break before another mind-numbing string of offices, hotels, and airports.

So on this Christmas morning, Akira found herself sprawled on a couch, staring at the cross beams in the high ceiling spanning the living room, sipping fresh-ground coffee, hearing the assorted _scrape-ssshh-scrape_ of a shovel at work from varying directions. It was unfamiliar, but at least it was a _home_ , and she appreciated that more than ever. It was places like these where she found respite now.

The large east-facing windows on this end of the room provided plenty of light, as well as a view onto the balcony and the ocean beyond. Flanking the windows was a comparatively less dramatic wooden door leading outside, off-white and worn, in stark contrast to everything else, even the floor. It was a strange juxtaposition—Akira guessed it had been chosen for practicality, and those who lived here didn't stay inside to enjoy the view.

They had chatted briefly over a light meal, but shortly afterward Catherine had excused herself, apologizing that she needed to get to work. Since then, Akira had caught glimpses of her through the glass, and as time passed it had gradually dawned on her just how much upkeep a place like this required. It certainly seemed better suited for two.

Akira's company-supplied apartment had the luxury of heated floors, and so the bare, cool wood here reminded her more of Ayako's place, the squeaks and thuds as she walked of those days when Asuka would run _everywhere_ , blessed with the inexhaustibility of a preschooler.

Of how quickly it would come to an end each morning when Ayako reminded her to be quieter, as if Asuka was trying her best to listen, but had genuinely forgotten in her sleep.

And of the rare exceptions, like when she would find Ayako in the kitchen, wrap an arm around her shoulder, stroke her warm cheeks or raise her chin with a gentle lift of a finger so she could look into the shorter woman's eyes, lean in—until inevitably they would hear Asuka barreling down the hallway, and the two would silently break away as if nothing had ever occurred.

Now that Akira thought about it, that sure happened a lot.

 _Thunk_. A new sound.

"All done out here," Catherine called from somewhere, and Akira took that as her excuse to pull on a windbreaker and shoes and venture outside.

* * *

The balcony was ashy-grey, weathered old wood, and as Akira stepped outside, she noticed it wrapped partially around the sides of the house as well. The three-tiered railing, already dusted with a light coat of snow, seemed like the kind you'd lean on and end up crashing precipitously to the ground below. She couldn't help but give it an investigative wiggle; rough to her touch, but to her surprise, it didn't budge.

If all evidence of the ferocity of the storm had seemed to vanish, being this close to the water was enough to display its continuing impact offshore. Despite the gentle snowfall, the waves crashed high against the rocky shore beyond, the sound only rivaled in intensity by the intermittent cries of seagulls. They had spared no time returning.

"It's pretty!"

Akira half-shouted it, unsure exactly where the other woman had disappeared to, but a few seconds later she walked around the corner into view, laughing and raising a thick steel mug in response. "Cold!"

"I would've helped, you know."

Catherine brushed off her arms, shaking her head. "I couldn't ask any more of you. I'd have to do this one way or another."

"Well, it's an employee performance issue."

"A bit hands-on…"

"I try to keep everything in mind." Akira laughed. "Ayako had me playing second mom for long enough that I'm aware of the little things."

"How did that come about?"

"She asked." Akira shrugged. "I'm not good with kids, but she didn't have anyone. Pharmacy was four-year then, so especially once I joined the company it was the least I could do. Once Asuka started school, she didn't need me as much."

"I see." Catherine looked confused. "Not to pry, but I had assumed you two were still together."

"It wasn't…" Akira searched for the right word; this wasn't really workplace English. "Goodbye? A breakup, if that's what you mean. We're still close. We just wanted different things."

"Is she not a…?"

"Honestly? No idea." Satisfied enough with the railing's structural integrity, Akira raised her arms to her sides, draping the one not occupied with her coffee mug over the top beam. She took a long sip; the snow she had brushed off the rail fluttered against the pilings below, caught by a gust of wind. "That part of Ayako's always been a mystery. I'm not even sure the question applies. It's all about family for her."

"It's tough as a single mother. Unimaginably."

"Yeah. I mean, I get it. I'm glad she found some happiness. But it's difficult—"

"To feel like you've been disposed of."

Akira let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding in, immediately feeling a little self-conscious as it condensed in front of her. She was still thinking about how to respond when the other woman spoke again.

"It's a terrible thing."

Silence hung in the air; many of the gulls had moved on, and only the rhythmic sound of the waves was left. Akira set her empty coffee cup on the nearby wooden table, turned and crossed her arms over the railing.

"My sister…" As Catherine trailed off, Akira turned to see her still looking out at the water pensively. "Neither of us had really dated at all at university. I think I convinced myself we'd just keep on like that." Her voice shook as she spoke, and as she met Akira's gaze, Akira noticed her trembling hands were still tightly gripping the steel mug on the railing, grinding it into the fresh snow as if putting out a cigarette. "It's selfish, but when she married it felt like a sort of… betrayal. At the time." She chuckled and shook her head. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

"It's selfish," Akira said. "But it's not ridiculous. Still, you're back here now, right?"

"For good, I'd hope." A weary laugh. "How many relationships have I been through since then…"

"It sounds like she really loves you."

"Some things persist. We've had so many happy times together." Catherine smiled wistfully. "Do you have any siblings, Akira?"

Another wave crashed onto the rocks.

* * *

"Good news for you, Tammy. Aunt Morii knocked it out of the park again."

"Oh? Just for me?"

"The whole department, I guess. He won't be a problem anymore." Akira twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Exact words were, 'I will not let this guy Vioxx our ass.' Standard American business English."

The only response was a faint _slam-slam-slam_ over the line.

"Shouldn't abuse your desk like that."

"You're not my boss anymore! Don't tell me how to live, Morii!"

"You sound like Asuka." Akira picked up her tablet. "I'll CC you on the formal recommendations, but I was told we'd be flexible with transfers out or whatever else to clear the air. You shouldn't have problems with the replacements."

"And I won't even have to do hiring…" Tammy sounded relieved. "But what a shame—you could have gone anywhere!"

Akira's stomach rumbled. "I miss Japanese food."

"And your niece, I'd hope!"

"Yeah, but she doesn't miss me." Akira laughed. "Enjoy the New Year. It's been a pleasure working with you."

"Likewise. Come see me when you have some vacation time again."

* * *

After getting off the phone with Tammy, Akira had shipped off the boxes she had found neatly stacked in the corner of the room by housekeeping, picked up her laundry, and repacked her roll-on just the way it was. All that was left to prepare for the flight home was to go to bed early. The endless business trips themselves were grating, but over the years she had managed to find some satisfaction in mastering these logistical puzzles.

It was perfect, she had thought, and that evening she was comfortably nestled in bed, the room unlit—except for the glow of a phone LCD. Akira was endlessly switching back and forth, wide-awake, between two screens. Ayako's contact card, her smiling face. _Click, click._ The flight. Tomorrow morning, 10:55, London. The next morning, 7:35, Haneda. _Click, click_. She had been caught in this ritual for some time, lingering just long enough to feel the beginnings of discomfort, of embarrassment at what she was doing, switching away quickly enough to convince herself it was something productive.

To convince herself she wasn't giving those two screens any unequal attention.

_Click, click._

She had resolved to call this afternoon— _I love you! I'll be seeing you soon!—_ but just as at Christmas, Akira had let the appropriate hour pass by.

Still, she hadn't swiped away that contact screen.

It'd be fine. She'd do it tomorrow.

A series of deep _thumps_ from outside rattled the room. Akira turned in bed to investigate just in time to see the sky fill with starbursts of white, red, green, small flashes of color shimmering on the windows of the buildings surrounding the hotel.

She moved to the edge of the bed to watch, and though she heard more launches, Akira saw nothing. Looking toward where the first had been, it appeared the tower across from her hotel room was hiding their ascent. A few seconds later, she realized it didn't matter; the next set crested its roof and burst, forming beautiful spirals in clear view. That was good enough.

 _Thump. Thump._ A few seconds later, everything brightened, dozens of brilliant streaks of light leaving trails through the sky before dimming out of existence.

 _Thump-thump-thump—_ three, quick in succession. The room flooded with light and color again, but the world beyond her window began to fill with an impossible number of those bright bursts, their crackles and pops becoming a cacophony, the streaks of light they left behind as they fell to earth appearing to hang in place as if anchored there rather than fading into the night.

She wondered if there had been some timing problem on the ground, but as the sky got brighter and the noise got louder became increasingly worried it was instead a terrible accident, and newly aware of her proximity to it considered an escape, but she was too close and it was too late, the booms and crackles built to a deafening roar, and she could no longer find the door—

Akira awoke with a start, her heart racing. She looked again toward the window, and found the tower had vanished, leaving the unobstructed view of the night sky she remembered.

The noise was gone too, but the light had persisted—its source not the window but the phone resting on the comforter near her hand, shining the lock screen towards the ceiling. Akira blearily reached for it and brought it closer. _11:39 PM,_ in blinding white, but that was only half of what she wanted to know. Her eyes hadn't adjusted yet, but if Akira squinted, she could just make out the date.

December 30.

She wouldn't see the fireworks this year. Midnight blurred at 40,000 feet.

She was sure they would be beautiful. She couldn't wait to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> I read Ichito for the first time right after Christmas about a year ago, and it became a work very close to my heart, so I wanted to write something while it was on hiatus. It's been forever since I've written in this format and my prose is shaky at best, so please forgive me if it isn't that good!
> 
> I went through several drafts, but consistently wanted to have Akira traveling for work, and thought this particular time frame might be fun and avoid intruding on the main plot. Writing her as a solo traveler resulted in an uncharacteristically moody, introverted Akira, which was weird, so I think this turned out better. I've tried to stay true to her fairly limited appearances as much as possible, but there may be some inconsistencies with her or the overall timeline, especially with the drama CDs or the upcoming redraw. (One thing may appear to be contradictory, but hopefully the intent should be obvious.)
> 
> Akira always felt to me like a competent, resilient woman who is skilled at using self-confidence, coquettishness, and her career to manage her distance from others. At the same time, it seems almost as if Akira had developed something between a protective instinct and an inferiority complex regarding the very different life Ayako lives, and those traits have developed into coping mechanisms for her. 
> 
> I think it's possible to read Akira and Ayako's relationship in many different ways, but one of the major themes of the series is the idea of "love" being a broader, fuzzier concept than its definitions let on, and that it doesn't necessarily begin with or evolve through what we consider "romantic love" (which itself has cultural and historical context). I think the different ideas of "love" that Akira and Ayako hold and how they might navigate those differences illustrate a lot about them and how they interact with one another.
> 
> Thank you to 中村たいやき先生 for this wonderful manga, geekさん on Twitter for character inspiration about Akira, my girlfriend for draft feedback, and you for reading!


End file.
